


Wet Dreams

by the_day_before



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Doppelganger, Double Penetration, Dream Sex, M/M, Mutual Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Restraints, Spitroasting, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 02:47:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14886194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_day_before/pseuds/the_day_before
Summary: Arthur has too much self control to let himself indulge in his desires outside of his dreams. Eames is there to explore with him.





	Wet Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: this is porn, like seriously there is no plot, just porn. Enjoy.

It was no secret that Arthur preferred to keep his personal business private. None of the teams he worked with ever knew anything more than his name, his current “residence”, and a prepaid phone number. He was fiercely protective of his information. The last guy that went ahead and nosed his way into Arthur's background ended up in the hospital for three months.

That didn’t stop people from talking and asking questions. He gave away harmless details of himself, his age, his favourite brand of whisky, and his deceased childhood dog’s name. But no matter how much people pried and weaselled their way into Arthur’s business, he always managed to shut them out.

Despite his reputation, people eyed him with both lust and fear. Arthur had no problems turning heads and getting whistled at by either gender. He frequently received propositions from both men and women, from any country he was staying in.

But no one knew if Arthur was even interested in sex, much less dating.

He never openly dated anyone. Most people assumed he was a frigid, stone-cold man, with occasional fuck buddies on the side

He kept a low profile when he frequented a bar or club. Most of the time he just went to drink some liquor and enjoyed the company of some tipsy men before leaving. He always left alone. Dom had asked him why he bothered going if he was just going to end up leaving solo.

Arthur shrugged. “It’s interesting to see how many people think they can take me home.”

Dom shook his head and laughed. “You’re a cruel man.”

~*~

Eames though—Eames was the first person to have peaked Arthur’s interest. It wasn’t obvious at a glance, but for all of Arthur’s cold shoulders and disapproving glares, he enjoyed Eames’ company.

Arthur chuckled at Eames’ lame jokes, listened attentively to Eames’ stories of England and his misdemeanours that nearly got him in trouble with the Queen. Dom listed Eames off as one of Arthur new public friends. Most people didn’t think there was much between them other than their annoying banter, and one-sided flirting. No one suspected that Arthur may have developed a disturbingly deep infatuation with the British man.

~*~

It was a silent rule among those that worked in dreamshare that the pasiv was not meant to be used outside of jobs. It wasn’t a toy. But everyone eventually slipped up their curiosity and desires outweighing all precautions. Dom’s group included.

~*~

Arthur tugged at his tie, waiting for the inevitable voice to come and disturb him.

“Hello darling,” came a familiar voice behind him.

Arthur turned and saw Eames, in a rather disgusting purple striped button down. He applauded his subconscious for coming up with something so… Eames’ like.

They were standing in one of Arthur’s condos that he painstakingly built from blueprints and photographs he pieced together while conscious.  It took about three days in waking hours to have the condo exactly to his liking. He filled the home with sleek furniture, a flat screen tv, with a white love seat, and a beige l-shaped couch. He didn’t hang up any photographs or any memorable knick-knacks. He kept it minimalistic, and it looked almost like a hotel room rather than a place where someone lived. And Arthur was fine with that. He didn’t want to get attached.

His projection of Eames was now approaching Arthur, wolfish smile hanging on his lips.

“I missed you, dearest,” he said sweetly and held Arthur’s hand in his, bringing it up to his lips.

Arthur rolled his eyes “No, you didn’t.”

Eames’ smile tightened into a little frown. “Of course, I did. I know you missed me too.”

Arthur did. He missed the real Eames. The last time he saw Eames was in Beijing three months ago, but he was suffering in a longer dry spell than normal and needed his fix.

Eames tugged Arthur closer and closed his eyes as he leaned in for a kiss.

Arthur closed his eyes and allowed himself to thaw into Eames’ lips.

They kissed and Arthur opened his mouth up for Eames. He felt hands on his hips, guiding them to the couch. Eames pulled away first, his lips hovering over Arthur’s. “May I?”

Arthur nodded at Eames’ smile. He loosened Arthur’s tie, slipping off, and stripping Arthur of his clothes. Eames threw them aside except for Arthur’s tie. He wrapped the fabric around Arthur’s wrists behind his back, tying it tight so that it wouldn’t come loose in their activities.

Eames stepped back and gave a slow appreciative look down Arthur’s body. “On your knees darling.”

Arthur got down obediently without a fuss. He knew he was being surprisingly compliant but that only further proved Eames’ statement. He missed Eames terribly. But he would never admit it out loud. Not even to his own projection of Eames.

He heard the metal belt clasp unbuckle and a zipper following shortly. Arthur drank in the sight of Eames, a bottle of lube appearing out of his hand, pouring the viscous liquid over his fingers. He watched as Eames was stroking his erection to life. “Come here, on your knees.”

Arthur went to his knees, crawling inch by inch, Eames’ cock growing closer to his face.  

Eames stroked himself, long and hard, and it was a moment before Eames cock was hard and red. He took his clean hand and threaded his fingers through Arthur's hair. He tightened his hold and guided Arthur’s face closer to his cock, wiping some of the excess lube on Arthur’s cheek.

“You’re gorgeous pet.”

Arthur’s inside flipped at the endearment. He stuck out his tongue, licking the cherry flavoured residue off of Eames’ cockhead.

Eames groaned and smirked. “Open up.”

Arthur licked his lips, moistening them before opening his mouth. Eames held his cock with his other hand to guide it in.

Eames groaned and held Arthur hair tighter. Arthur sucked the head, licking it and swirling the tip. He sucked more, hallowing his cheeks, going halfway to Eames’ cock rocking his head back and forth. He never took more than that. Teasing Eames as he stayed within cockhead distance. He heard the heavy breaths coming from above, and he looked up to see Eames focused on his lips, watching him take the head playing with it, his tongue dancing and flicking over it. Eames thrust slightly, making Arthur take only a little more than before. They played this game of theirs. To see who could control themselves the longest before the other snapped. Normally they never went this slow. Nor did they ever tease. Arthur never had the patience for it, not when he was dreaming like this.

Arthur felt Eames’ gaze on his mouth, his red lips swollen now from Eames’ cock. This was his Eames’ favourite sight. his lips spread wide and around his cock, watching the skin colour and thicken from the intrusion.

It wasn’t long before Eames thrust again, this time sharper and Arthur felt it hit his throat. Eames didn’t apologize, there was no need to. Arthur loved when Eames was losing control. The thrust came again, and again, each one harder than the last. Then Eames groaned wanting more.

“Darling, I’m going to fuck your face,” he said. Arthur groaned. “You know what to do.”

Arthur stopped sucking but kept his cheeks hallowed and relaxed his throat. Eames sighed contently and stroked Arthur’s cheek, feeling the soft skin gripping his cock.

Eames started thrusting, both hands on his head now. His fingers tightened, anchoring and positioning Arthur’s mouth just the way he wanted as he thrust his hips, cock hitting the back of Arthur’s throat. Arthur inhaled, and felt the next thrust push Eames’ cock all the way down his throat. God, it burned and hurt, but it was so good. Eames tugged Arthur’s hair, using it as leverage to thrust his cock deeper, making Arthur take it.

“God, your throat is so tight and wet.” Eames hissed. “Fuck, it feels better than any cunt.”

He released Arthur’s hair, trusting that Arthur will stay put. His fingers now travelled down Arthur’s face to his hollowed cheeks. Projection Eames loved this too. The feeling of Arthur’s cheek expanding and stretching around Eames’ cock, the slight trembles as he kept forcing Arthur not to gag. Eames’s fingers pressed into his cheeks, relishing the sight and feeling of Arthur’s mouth struggling to hold his cock.

“You are so lovely,” Eames said, and it wasn’t an adjective Arthur was expecting at a time like this. But Eames’ eyes showed that he adored Arthur, like this on his knees, taking Eames, wanting it all. Arthur felt Eames’ finger go further down, delicate touches tickling until he stopped at Arthur’s lips. He prodded the skin there, seeing the tight lips clutching at his cock and occasionally slurping when spit started to leak.

“What I wouldn’t give to see you suck two cocks.”

Arthur shivered, and it didn’t matter that this was a dream. It felt so real with Eames’ dark eyes tracing over Arthur's lips, his thrusts now getting frantic. He slipped a finger from each of his hands into Arthur’s pliant mouth, along with his cock.

Arthur’s eyes watered and he felt like his lips would rip and bleed under the pressure.

“I’m so close,” Eames said, already knowing what Arthur felt.

Arthur started sucking then, feeling the salty precum in the back of his throat. He met Eames’ thrusts, sucking in when Eames thrusted in and swirling his tongue over the head, wiping the head clean of precum when Eames thrusted out.

Eames hissed and then pulled out his fingers and grabbed Arthur’s hair, using his strength to force his hips up and barely pulling out, simply thrusting in and in, until Arthur was feeling lightheaded.

“Almost there darling, just hold on a little longer.”

Eames thrust in a few more times, before leaving only the cock head in Arthur’s lips, forcing Arthur to taste his cum in spurts. Arthur grimaced at the bitter and salty taste, but Eames liked watching him.

Eames sighed, feeling Arthur’s licking the head clean, but he didn’t swallow. He knew what it meant when Eames didn’t immediately cum down Arthur’s throat.

He pulled out, rubbing the head of his cock on Arthur's lips, watching a string of cum connecting them. Every time they did this, Arthur couldn’t help but wonder what his projection of Eames felt when he saw Arthur like this. If he even had any feelings at all. The way he looked at Arthur was so genuine like there was no one else in the world that mattered more. Well, there literally was no one since they were both in Arthur’s head.

Arthur wasn’t fooled though. He never allowed himself to believe anything this Eames said. He wasn’t real. And every time Arthur felt his resolve slip, and felt himself fall deeper for an illusion, he winded back ten steps when he woke up, back to reality, back to his real world, he’d retract in his armour and keep himself at arm's length from Eames.

But for now, he indulged in this dream, in this fantasy, and never allowed anything more happen between them other than to satisfy his needs.

Eames lifted Arthur off the floor, and settled him on the couch, untying the tie. He eyed Arthur’s erection that stood up straight and painful but didn’t touch it.

“I want to watch you get yourself off,” Eames said, bringing a dining chair over a couple of feet from the couch. “You know how I like to watch you.”

Arthur didn’t say anything, still holding a mouthful of cum in his mouth. He twisted his wrist, flexing them and getting feeling back in them.

He sat back, feet propped up on the cushions and knees spread wide. He spits some of the contents from his mouth into his hand and stroked himself. He did it slowly, dragging his fist up and down, setting a pace.

He used his other hand and spit the remaining cum into his fingers. He worked his fingers over his puckered hole, teasing it, getting the outside of it slippery and wet. He felt his rim sticky and wet, coated in Projection Eames’ cum. And Projection Eames never looked away from between his legs. He put pressure on it, feeling his rim give way, but he never breached the opening. Arthur glanced up to see Eames focus on his hole, eyes dark, and he was again hard. Arthur had laughed the first time Eames recovered from an orgasm within less than a few minutes. The perks of having sex in a dream.

He teased his hole over and over, and he heard Eames growl out. “Get on with it.”

Arthur ignored him, taking his time stroking his rim and fisted his cock.

He accidentally felt the tip of his finger slip and enter him, and he moaned. He gave up his control then, entering his first finger, letting it stroke in and felt it thrust inside. He felt Eames’ cum lube at his entrance, making it slippery and wet.

He worked himself open with one finger, his other hand stopped stroking his erection and instead used it to lift and tuck away his balls and cock, displaying himself perfectly for Eames. His pink, ripe, and tight asshole.

He heard Eames’ sharp inhale. He smirked and dragged another finger into his entrance, shoving it in and closing his eyes. It felt good, nowhere near as good as it did when Eames’ fingers worked him open, but Arthur knew his body and where he liked to touch. He avoided his prostate, wanting to savour the burning stretch, scissoring his fingers.

He thrust his fingers in, forcing Eames’ cum into him further, rubbing it away into his inner walls, wanting it to mark him. He stroked his soft insides, feeling his rim resist and tighten around the intrusion. He knew what he must look like, his pucker tight around his fingers. The rim being dragged out as his fingers pulled out and then being squished back in as his fingers forced themselves back inside. Arthur entered another finger, and now all of Eames’ cum was being forced inside of him, thrusting in and out, until it got to the point where it dribbled out between the crevices of his fingers.

Arthur pulled out his fingers and quickly licked the drops of cum escaping his fingers. He deliberately stuck out his tongue, strings of saliva connecting and snapping off each lick he gave his fingers, watching Eames’ from the corner of his eyes. Eames was now fully hard and stroking his cock, hungry and primal eyes following every one of Arthur ministrations.

“I can see my cum in you,” Eames said, voice rough and dry. “Fuck—your arse, its leaking and it’s so wet. It’s going to come out—don’t let it fall, hurry and put back in.”

Arthur moaned and brought his fingers back to his opening and stroked it. He gathered the wetness on his fingers and thrust it back in, all the way to his knuckles. “I can feel it,” Arthur said, spreading legs wider. “Tell me what you want to see.”

Eames’ stroking halted, and he gripped the base of his cock. “I want you on your knees, bent over, spreading yourself, and working yourself open for me.”

Arthur bit his lip, listening to the sounds of his fingers working themselves faster into his ass. He pulled them out and flipped himself over on his knees. Finding balance was never a challenge, as he and his Eames made a routine of Arthur getting on his knees, putting a show on for Eames.

Knees spread, Arthur felt the cool air hit his asshole, and he clenched unintentionally. Eames’ breathed hitched and Arthur heard lube being squirted into his hand.

Arthur smirked as he leaned over, head resting on the back of the couch. Reaching under himself, his fingers trailed up to search for its target. He circled the edge of his hole, wiping more of the cum in his rim.

Thrusting three of his fingers in, he bit his lip, refusing to make a sound. He scissored his fingers, stretching his entrance for Eames’ cock.

“Eames,” Arthur sighed. “Come here.”

Eames adjusted in his seat, leaning back against the wooden chair. “I will. I just want watch you a bit longer.”

Arthur closed his eyes, breaching his asshole to his knuckles. Thrusting them faster, creating slick squelching noises.

He opened his eyes, watching Eames stroke himself faster, in sync with his fingers.

Arthur thrust his fingers faster, feeling himself climb higher. It wasn’t enough, but he knew if he added more fingers he’d feel full and he’d be able to make himself come.

He watched Eames, hunger in his eyes transfixed on Arthur’s rim. “Don’t come.” He said.

Arthur groaned, fighting to keep his eyes open on Eames.

“Come fuck me,” Arthur said, breathlessly. “I want you to.”

Eames bit his lip and got up to the couch. He leaned down to kiss Arthur. He didn’t start slow and gentle, it was rough and demanding. His tongue was searching for Arthur’s, asserting himself. An awkward angle, but Arthur didn’t care. He wanted to be consumed in the moment of Eames.

He felt a strong grip on his hips—tight enough to leave marks. Blunt head prodding at his entrance and Arthur bit his lip as he felt Eames’ cock push its way in.

“ _Fuck_.” Arthur gasped.

Eames didn’t stop, didn’t wait for Arthur to relax and adjust. He kept going, and going until Arthur felt rough hairs against his ass, a firm weight settling behind him.

“Darling, I’ve missed this so,” Eames said gently, but his thrust didn’t mirror any of the saccharine tone. Eames thrusted deep and slow. Hard enough to make Arthur find purchase, anything to keep from collapsing.

Eames held his hips, anchoring and pulling at Arthur to meet his thrusts, not a moment of rest for Arthur. Eames— _his Eames_ was greedy. Arthur’s Eames wanted all of him, when he wanted, how he wanted.

“Arthur,” Eames leaned down and pressed his lips to Arthur’s ear. “You can come whenever you want, but no touching yourself.”

Arthur breathed harshly in response. Eames chuckled, placing his knees between Arthur’s on the sofa, knocking them further apart.

His thrusts heightened in speed, every single one barely leaving Arthur’s rim, simply pushing further in each time, trying to reach further into Arthur. And Arthur whimpered. “Fuck.”

He felt it now. The burn. His inside felt so raw. Used. That’s what was happening. Eames was using him to get off. Chasing his release. But Arthur was already so far gone. He felt every thrust at his prostate. It forced his cock to twitch, his cockhead swinging to Eames’ thrust, barely brushing the fabric of the sofa. Little drops of precum escaping and staining the cushions.

“I can’t—” Arthur said, gripping the fabric of the couch. Eames ignored him. Arthur felt Eames’ thrusts start to pull back until the head was all that was left inside—not a second later Eames thrust deeper, harder than the last, Arthur’s breath getting knocked out of him.

“Eames—” And Arthur felt his cock twitch, spraying the couch in milky white. His ass tightened—Eames favourite part. When Arthur came and his ass choking Eames’ cock into giving him what he wanted.

Eames really was using him now. Arthur limp and immobile, while Eames’ hands held Arthur in place, and thrust manically in, not letting any space escape from his cock and Arthur’ ass. Just in, and in again and again. Arthur was loose now, relaxed and it was so easy for Eames to just take.

He kept at it, not caring if Arthur was sore and tender. Nothing mattered, everything a second importance until Eames had what he wanted. Arthur felt the familiar pause, a hitched breath, and Eames’ one final thrust in, draping himself over Arthur.

They laid there Eames carefully extracting himself, Arthur making himself comfortable on the couch, bringing Eames to lay with him. They moulded perfectly with Arthur’s head on Eames’ chest and Eames’ languidly trailing his fingers to find Arthur’s hole, his fingers gathering his cum and pushing it back in when it began flowing out.

~*~

Things started to pick up from then on.

Arthur didn’t make it a habit to have his own sexual liaisons in his dreams, but his subconscious was not having any of his self-control, always having Eames-projection prepared to have his way with Arthur. By default, Arthur was aware it was his deep secret desires. They had an endless libido, courtesy of being in a dream, and Arthur exploited that to the fullest.

One of his own favourite post orgasmic moments was when Eames had yet to reach his climax, and he just took Arthur. Took what he needed, kept thrusting in and getting more desperate with each thrust, and Arthur let him. Like now.

He was on his side, one leg hitched up to his chest, and Eames on his knees, thrusting in. He was tender, but he loved to just look up at Eames and watch that animalistic concentration on his face, focused on Arthur’s little red rim swallowing Eames’ cock and just chasing his release. Arthur loved watching Eames use him. His asshole is the most important thing to Eames in his eyes at that moment, eyes focused all on that little-wrinkled muscle and whispering filthy things about it.

“Fuck, Arthur your arse--it’s swallowing all of me.” Eames huffed.

Eames sat back on his heels, his cockhead being clenched by Arthur’s rim and Eames looks so captivated by the sight. Arthur felt the slightest pressure as Eames barely shifted, entering just a little bit more before pulling away again, admiring the way the rim was dragged by his cock.

“I wish you could see what you looked like right now,” Eames said, but his eyes were still transfixed on Arthur’s entrance. “Your arsehole here,” Eames said, his fingers ghosting over Arthur’s pucker, feeling the stretched muscle where Eames and he were connected. “It’s fucking clinging to me.” And Eames elaborated on that when he thrusted in all the way to the hilt, and Arthur clenched his teeth, feeling his cock stirring, but then Eames began pulling back out dragging out the moment. Arthur knew what he meant. He could feel his rim tighten, and refused to loosen as Eames pulled out, clenching at the intrusion, perhaps it was trying to force it out or keep it in.

~*~

Arthur was growing more adventurous as his fantasies grew more risqué.

He and his projection of Eames began exploring more of Arthur’s kinks.

They had sex in the backseat of Arthur’s car, in the changerooms at the mall, at the public restroom, Arthur’s old high school classroom.

Everything in this world was bent at Arthur’s will, suited to fit him and his needs.

~*~

Eames met Arthur a year after their job in Beijing in L.A. He heard Arthur was in town for a personal business trip and Eames couldn’t resist laying his eyes on the gorgeous man.

So, he followed Arthur’s nonexistent trail to a rundown club. There was a backroom, for lowkey businessmen. It was subtle, and no would think there was anything more going on other than shady drug dealers selling whatever was requested.

But in fact, it was one of the few places pasiv’s were illegally rented out to the niche populace that knew of dream sharing, who wanted to experience a different reality. However, when Eames walked into the room, he saw Arthur alone on a torn sofa with a pasiv and IV hooked into his arm.

“Hello, darling.”

Arthur looked up with a face of utter shock, but didn’t miss a beat when he responded with “What are you doing here?”

Eames hummed and dragged his eyes over Arthur’s tight dress shirt and navy slacks. “I came to see you of course.” He approached Arthur and his eyes travelled down Arthur’s frame, deliberately slow so that Arthur knew he was appreciating the view.

Arthur tore the iv out of his arm and closed the pasiv shut. “Somehow I doubt that. What kind of mess did you get into this time?”

Eames feigned an innocent bashful flick of his eyelashes. “What must you think of me, dearest,” Eames said, coming closer. “I have a job, and I heard you were in the neighbourhood. I thought I’d drop by.”

Arthur didn’t look up at him but fiddled with the locks and clasps on the pasiv. “Well, thanks for dropping by,” Arthur muttered, taking the pasiv and folding his coat over his arms.

Eames made his way to block the door before Arthur could reach it. “What’s the rush?”

Arthur’s brown eyes met his, and he felt the stirring affection that he clamped shut for months suddenly break his resolve. He reached out to feel Arthur’s raven hair, tucking a loose strand behind his ear. “I missed you.”

Arthur flinched and slapped away Eames’ hand. “I didn’t.”

Eames resisted chuckling, his hand now settled at his side. “You’re like a grumpy cat that refuses to acknowledge its human roommate, but when they so much as leaves for a few minutes he comes purring and rubbing at your knees.”

Arthur glared at him, not impressed with his analogy, but Eames could see the hint of dimples peaking through. “I’m a cat now?”

Eames smiled. “Well, not exactly, but it’s what you remind me of occasionally.” he leaned in and basked in the sight of Arthur. He needed to memorize this, the reluctant dimples popping out, the perfectly slicked hair that part to the side before he left and was once again pining for his darling. “I know you missed me too.”

Arthur didn’t reply at that, but the firm lines in his face relaxed. “Always so sentimental.” He hitched his coat over his shoulder, tucking the PASIV into a safe, shutting it closed with a passcode lock. He stood in front of Eames, tilting his head as his eyes trailed down Eames’ frame, drawing out if Eames had changed in the months he last saw him. Arthur didn’t say anything but his eyes said it all. _Until next time Mr. Eames._

This was their routine. Say hello, and just as quickly bid their farewells. But Eames wasn’t fooled. He saw the way Arthur’s eyes lingered at Eames’ face, memorizing it like it might be the last time he’d ever see the man again. The way he dragged his eyes away like there was never enough time in the world to memorize every detail of Eames.

For the most part, Eames ignored it. He knew about his darling’s emotional constipation, and there was no way Eames was going to be the one to bring Arthur out of his shell. But each of their encounters grew harder to end things as they were.

Before Arthur could bypass him, Eames grabbed his elbow and tucked him against the door, their chests flush against each other.

“Stop that.”

Arthur didn’t avoid his eyes this time. He stared right at Eames, mostly because Eames was so close that it was unavoidable. Eames knew he was treading a fine line between getting punched or getting a kiss. Just because Arthur fancied him, didn’t mean he couldn’t knock out his teeth at any hair triggering moment.

“Let go of me,” Arthur said under his breath.

Eames pressed on, one knee wedging between Arthur’s thighs. He had him pinned, grabbing both wrists and locking them above Arthur’s head. “Not until you give me a definite answer,” Eames said. “You look like you want to rip off my clothes at any given moment, but the minute I reach out and indulge you, you jet and make a beeline for the next flight to Paris.”

Arthur was breathing carefully, trying not to brush their lips together. “You have three seconds to move.”

Eames wanted to lean in and shut him up for good. So, he did. With a kiss, a firm press of their lips. Just as he expected, Arthur didn’t fight him. At least not at first.

Arthur melted. All the tension leaving his shoulders, the arms in Eames’ hands relaxed, no longer fighting him. A second longer and Eames would have dropped his guards. Would have started trailing his hands down to cradle Arthur’s face, and thumb the crevices where his favourite dimples laid hidden. But he knew better. He waited as Arthur began relishing in the initial sensations, chasing Eames’ lips at every shift. The delicious little intakes of breaths that sent chills up Eames’ spine. Then he felt the stiffness return in Arthur’s chest, the kiss slowly less responsive, until Arthur dragged his lips away despite Eames’ whine, and turned his head.

“Darling,” Eames’ breath slightly strained. “Why?”

This was not the first time this happened. Eames could count the number of times this sort of accidental intimacy happened on one hand. But it happened too many times now for it to be written off as “accidental”

“Is once enough for you?”

Eames didn’t follow at first until realization hit him.

“Is that what you want?” Eames asked, genuinely curious, but couldn’t keep the ache at bay. “Is one night what you want?”

Arthur hesitated to answer honestly. Eames saw the twinge in Arthur’s brow, considering a lie before it settled. “No.” He looked into Eames’ eyes. “No, it won’t be enough.”

“It’s settled then darling,” Eames said, once again lips brushing Arthur’s. “Be mine.” He felt a shiver crawl down Arthur’s body. He felt it, and Arthur knew he did too.

“Eames,” Arthur sighed breathlessly “I can’t—“

“Yes, you can.” Eames insisted. “You want to, you know you do.” He wanted to slap himself for making the worst encouragements, but he was desperate and if not, a little bit drunk off of Arthur.

Arthur huffed, shifting under Eames, closing his eyes. “Eames.”

“Arthur, darling, love, pet—what can I say to make you see that this could be amazing. You and me. We’re always so good together, aren’t we love?”

Arthur whined trying to drag his arms back down, but Eames held tighter. “No,” Eames said, and Arthur turned his head away as Eames' lips brushed his.

“I can’t.”

“Why?” Eames asked, even to him it sounded pitiful. “Tell me why.”

Arthur turned his head back to face Eames, opening his eyes, staring straight into Eames’. “Because if this happens, if this is real. I won’t be able to control myself. I’ll lose myself in it and I won’t be able to stop myself.”

Eames heard every word. He heard it, but he felt like he was floating. Dreaming. This couldn’t be real. Arthur couldn’t be real. He must be dreaming. Except his poker chip was tight in his pocket, poking him as his thigh grinding into Arthur’s crotch.

“Arthur. I think about you every day. Ever since I saw you when we were in Hawaii, and I was deliriously burnt to a tender crisp, and I saw you on the beach, on the horizon. I thought I was going mad from the burning pain, but no. You were very real.” Eames knew the danger of revealing this information, could see Arthur retract altogether, not ready to hear this sort of confession, but if not now, Eames didn’t know when he would ever be able to tell Arthur like this. Vulnerable and open.

“I thought you were jailbait, there to seduce the mark into our premises. Instead, I find out you’re a point man, cold as ice, merciless. You handled the mark and their guards singlehandedly, and God—I knew I was gone. I couldn’t stop my mind from wandering back to the man in his pristine tailored suits in the middle of the beach. You were too young to be wearing such stuffy things, overcompensating for your age through your wardrobe, is what I thought.”

Arthur let out a breath, slow and careful. Eames felt Arthur’s chest rise and fall.

“Eames. Stop, now.’

“No.” Eames held on tighter. “You’re not pushing me away, not this time.”

He kissed Arthur again, and he wasn’t met with resistance.

His fingers found the hem of Arthur’s shirt, untucking it from Arthur’s expensive slacks.

“This,” Eames says breathlessly. “is not a one-time thing.” He watches Arthur’s face for any indication that he understood.

“I don’t want a one-time thing,” said Eames, lips trailing over Arthur pale skin. His lifted Arthur’s shirt higher, exposing everything that Eames only imagined for so long.

Lean muscles and brown pink nipples.

Arthur’s hand found the button of Eames’ pants. “You’re mine.” It was not a question. Arthur was laying claim. Before this went any further he needed confirmation.

Eames nodded, slightly delirious as Arthur’s fingers expertly worked Eames’ pants open. “I’m all yours.” As he said it, Eames found it so foreign to say. He was never anyone’s—not really—not long enough for it to really count. Not really where he was anyone’s exclusive. And Arthur knew that. Probably knew of all Eames’ sordid past.

Arthur smiled his eyes shining with arousal. “I’ll hold you to that Mr. Eames.”

He took hold of Eames and dragged them to the second-hand couch. Arthur laid him flat on his back, lengthwise on it, himself crawled over his lap.

He slid Eames’s pants and boxers down, just enough for Eames’ growing erection to pop free.

Eames felt Arthur’ warm breath, hovering over the head. His cock twitched. “Eames,” Arthur placed Eames’ hand on Arthur’s head, lacing his finger into his hair. “Show me how you like it.”

Eames felt his breath shudder. “Fuck.” He tightened his hold, short brown locks tangled in his grip.

Arthur’s tongue licked his cockhead tentatively, darting his eyes up to glance at Eames.

Eames couldn’t look away. The sight of Arthur wrapping his lips around his cock, feeling the wet tongue flick over and over in the slit—it was surreal.

“Arthur,” Eames said, softly thrusting his hips in an upward motion.

Arthur hummed waiting for Eames to say more— _to direct him_.

Eames shallowly thrust up, watching a little bit more of himself breach Arthur’s mouth.

Arthur started bobbing his head into the rhythm that Eames set. Slow and savouring this moment. Eames brought his other hand to thumb at Arthur’s lips. Plush and red.

He started thrusting, a little more. Careful to not obstruct Arthur breathing. He wanted more. So much more. But at the same time, this was already too much.

“Arthur,” Eames said. “Come here.”

Arthur popped his lips off of Eames, sitting up.

Eams motioned for Arthur to strip. He saw the tenting in Arthur’s pants, dishevelled hair and unbuttoned shirt. Eames did that to Arthur. Arthur who everyone said had ice in his veins. The same Arthur that dislocated Frank Pearson’s shoulder for groping his ass on the job.

Arthur stripped. Eames soaked in the sight. “Come here.” 

Arthur was smaller in frame, easier for Eames to handle him, work those toned legs over his own hips and settle in Eames’ lap.

“God, you take directions so well,” Eames said, bringing Arthur down to kiss him. He shouldn’t be surprised. This was Arthur who followed instructions to the details. Give him an order and he was the man who got it done right, exactly how you wanted. Maybe even better.

Eames was still dressed, his pants unzipped and exposing his rock hard cock, laying flat on his back. Arthur grinds his ass back on it, his own saliva moistening his skin.

“Turn around. I want to blow you too.”

Arthur’s eyes glimmered. He manoeuvred so that his lips hovered over Eames’ cock, his own erection directly above Eames’ lips.

Eames started, lips brushing Arthur’s cockhead, before immediately taking it in his mouth. He placed his hands on Arthur’s hips and guided him down. Arthur got the message, slowly rocking his hips down and pushing his cock into Eames’ mouth further.

Eames felt warm lips warm around his erection. Sucking in time to Eames.

It was so difficult to concentrate. Trying to fight the urge, to let go and take Arthur’s head in his hands and just thrust up, was so fucking hard. Eames closed his eyes, gathering his saliva to coat Arthur’s cock.

He slid his lips off Arthur taking in the view of Arthur’s arse. He quickly sucked his fingers soaking them in spit before taking one of Arthur’s cheeks and spreading it open. Arthur’s little tight muscle for Eames to play with. He slid his forefinger up and down the entrance, a tease.

Arthur’s rhythm stuttered, breath falling in short huffs. “Shit.”

Eames smirked. He circled the hole, watching it clench and tease him. He dipped the tip of his finger in, warming it up for the next ministrations.

“You did this before and you thought of me,” said Eames.

Arthur sucked harder, the hallowing of his cheeks tightening.

Eames cursed, thrusting up automatically. “I bet you fingered yourself right before we have our meetings with Dom and Yusuf, I bet you got yourself off in the washrooms. Just to get the edge off. Just so that you can survive being in the same room with me for hours and control yourself.”

Arthur sobbed, the vibrations pulsating Eames’ erection. Eames felt hands placed on each of his thighs, and Arthur now bobbing his head faster.

Eames pushed his forefinger into Arthur, watching the rim open for him. Arthur was tight. Like he never really fucked. He watched the rim fucking cling to his finger as he pulled it back.

Eames took hold of Arthur’s cock, placing it on his lips. He thrust his finger back into Arthur whilst pushing Arthur’s hips down to send his cock into his mouth. Eames built up a pace, one different from Arthur’s fast and long.

Eames went slow and deep. Eames made himself work for Arthur. Work his mouth on Arthur’s cock, all the way up until his nose met Arthur’s perineum.

Arthur’s hips twitched—evidently fighting himself from simply fucking Eames’ mouth.

Arthur’s own ministrations stopped, pulling himself off Eames’ cock, just over it to catch a breath. “Eames fucking hell.”

Eames pushed Arthur’s waist down again, indirectly telling him to continue.

Arthur went back on Eames, sucking faster. Eames placed another one of his fingers in, feeling Arthur stretch around them. It was a little dry, but Arthur didn’t seem like he minded, as Eames felt moaning sensations around his cock.

They went faster, losing themselves in each other. Eames thrust his fingers in faster, bobbing his head meeting Arthur’s thrusts. Arthur was still mindful of Eames and his awkward angle, keeping himself from going too far. Eames could’ve handled a rough blowjob, he was experienced—but this position was hard for him to relax his throat.

But Arthur had no problem deep throating him. He swiftly took Eames up and down, passed his throat. Eames felt his climax.

His hips worked up on their own, following the moist canal of Arthur’s mouth. Arthur swerving his hips back to meet his fingers.

Eames came as soon as Arthur took him in down to the hilt. He released Arthur’s cock, cursing as Arthur didn’t let up, just stayed in position waiting for Eames to finish.

Once Eames calmed down, he had licked three of his fingers thoroughly moistening them before he shoved them into Arthur. Arthur gasped.

Eames kept at it, hitting Arthur’s prostate straight on, suckling on Arthur’s cockhead.

When Arthur did come, it was a quiet hitch breath, the only warning he got before Eames felt spurts of hot liquid in his mouth. It landed right on his tongue in his mouth. He swallowed. Normally something he didn’t appreciate doing, but for Arthur, he’d do anything.

He licked it up, cleaning off Arthur cock until he was satisfied. They fixed themselves up, Arthur dressed but his shirt only draped over his shoulders, Eames readjusting his clothes to look less debauched.

Arthur settled beside Eames on the couch. “We’re really doing this.”

Eames stared at Arthur, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Yeah. We really are.”

~*~

Eames woke up to Arthur hooked up to the PASIV, buttoned back up in his suit, hair swerved back.

Arthur wasn’t one to actively use the PASIV unless it was for a job. He could probably count on one hand how many times he encountered Arthur choosing to use the PASIV purely for his own gratification. He’d hear Arthur scolding him, “It’s not a toy, Eames. It’s not meant to be played with.”

He settled on the sofa beside Arthur, hooking in an iv in his own arm. “Darling, what kind of secrets are you hiding in there.”

When he opened his eyes, he was in a moving elevator of an apartment complex. Only one button was lit from the array of floors, and it was the penthouse.

“My, my, were you expecting me?” Eames whispered as the doors dinged open.

There was only one door on the floor. Surprisingly it wasn’t locked, nor were there any traps.  The doorknob resisted opening though. It was stiff like it was rusted, and Eames took that as a sign that Arthur didn’t _not_ want him there, but there was an indefinite guard up around Arthur, no matter who it was.

Eames frowned, forcing the door open.

This wasn’t what he expected. He expected Arthur knees deep in books, paper, an array of ties all placed neatly in a systematic order in Arthur’s no doubt modern, sleek furniture.  Instead, Arthur was backed up on a dining table, with an Eames-double standing between his legs.

Eames’ intrusion didn’t make a loud enough sound to interrupt them. They were a picture-perfect pair. Two boyfriends in their apartment, looking like they were going to get down. Except Projection Eames boxed Arthur to the table, and each attempt he made for a kiss, Arthur turned away. There were whispers of “No, seriously this is going to stop.” and “Darling, I missed you.” It wasn’t until Projection Eames began trailing his fingers down to Arthur’s belt, that Eames felt he saw enough.

“Darling, I feel I’m owed an explanation,” he said calmly.

Projection-Eames didn’t flinch like Arthur, but he side-eyed him. He knew the whole time Eames was there. He looked at Eames with indifference, laced with irritation, like Eames was the intruder in their little world. Yes, perhaps in this case he was, but the way Projection-Eames was draped over Arthur had his skin crawl.

“ _Darling_ ,” Projection-Eames said, drawing out the end. Eames felt his eyebrow twitch. “It seems we have company.” A sudden smirk cracked in Projection Eames’ predatory demeanour. “How’s about an audience, a real audience this time.” He turned and eyed Eames. “What do you say? Care to watch?”

Those words ringed in his ears. It couldn’t have been what Eames was thinking of.

“Watch?”

Arthur’s ears started to flush, eyes glaring daggers at Projection-Eames’ head— _and good god it was true._ “You’ve been shagging a _projection_ of me?” Eames asked astonishingly.

Projection-Eames smirked and brought his hands to Arthur’s hips. He ignored Eames’ accusation in favour of teasing Arthur. “What do you say, pet? Want to give us a show?” The words that were spilling out of his mouth were hovering over Arthur’s ear. Arthur squirmed, hands tugging away at Projection-Eames’ hands.

Eames cut in. “That’s quite alright, Arthur and I can enjoy ourselves just fine.”

Projection-Eames glanced behind him, at the real Eames. His eyes held the same inherent mischief Eames saw in himself. “You might want to reconsider,” Projection-Eames said, and he was familiar with the charming smile that was given to him. It was the one he used on Arthur every waking possible moment, hoping he could entice Arthur with it. He didn’t think it actually worked. Apparently, it did though since Projection Eames was actively using it. “I know everything Arthur likes. I can show you.” He turned to back to Arthur, grinding his hips down. “He is ever so sweet,” Arthur froze at the compliment, knowing what to expect next. “Always wants to please.”

Eames’ breath hitched.

Arthur sighed, turning his head away as Eames tilted closer. “Eames—stop.”

Projection-Eames chuckled. “Make me.”

Eames held his tongue before he blurted out something incredibly embarrassing, like _“I’m Eames you twat_.”

Arthur started pushing at Projection-Eames’ chest, and he relented, easing away from his hips, but his arms kept snaking around Arthur despite the smacks that followed.

“Eames, this has to stop.”

Projection-Eames didn’t look convinced, smirk still hanging from his lips. “Arthur, love, what are you saying? You can never leave me. You created me.”

Arthur gave one of his fear-inducing glares. “I regret it every day.”

Projection-Eames chuckled. “So, you say, but here I still am.” He turned to Eames. “Do you want to see what we’ve been doing for the past year?”

Eames choked on air. “Year?” he gawked at Arthur. “You’ve been doing---" he flailed his hands at projection-Eames, “For a year?”

Arthur didn’t blush this time, but he didn’t return his gaze right away. “Nine months.” he corrected.

Projection-Eames waved his hand in dismissal. “Close enough.” He titled his head and smiled. “I could show you. Everything he likes, everything he loves, and everything he needs.”

Arthur made a protesting sound, grabbing Projection-Eames by the sleeve. “Eames—no. Stop talking--”

Eames didn’t need to consider anything. His mind wandered leading him down a path he couldn’t stop himself from. He imagined what Arthur got up to in bed, with someone or otherwise, what it was that pushed him off the edge. How long it took before Arthur—proud, pretentious Arthur, started begging. It was a lovely thought. “Okay.”

Arthur shot him a glare. “What?”

Eames was staring down Projection-Eames. “I want to see. I want to know.” Curiosity outweighed all else, even his territorial instincts subsided in the wake of seeing what it was Arthur dreamed about him to the point he created a duplicate to fulfil his needs.

Projection-Eames clapped his hands. “Wonderful, where shall we start? Not sure if we’ll have enough time to do everything now. Arthur only inserted enough time for a half hour session. Decided he wanted to put an end to all of this, came to discuss his reasoning with me. Apologized, listed off one after another why this was a horrible idea from the beginning.” Projection Eames tilted his head, and the look he gave Arthur made Eames doubletake. Was that how he looked at Arthur? Affectionately. Or was that how Arthur _wanted_ to be gazed at. The significance of that answer weighed heavily in Eames’ mind.

“But he knows that I won’t be gone that easily. At least not now.” Projection Eames dragged Arthur right to the edge of the table, tucking him into his chest. “He still needs me.”

Eames grinned back menacingly, making slow steps toward Arthur. “Well, I’ll be sure to take notes.”

The next fifteen minutes consisted of Arthur vehemently protesting when the two Eames were making plans and scheduling their dream share activities. Projection Eames insisted they would wouldn’t scratch the surface of Arthur’s fantasies within a mere half an hour.

Arthur and Eames talked, Projection Eames, making a few suggestions on where they could begin.

“There is something Arthur loves, yet he rarely ever lets us do it.”

Arthur tensed, arms folded on his chest.

Projection Eames smiled. “He loves having two cocks. One at each end.”

Eames swallowed his whimper because he has some dignity, and more importantly, _Lord have mercy_ , just picturing Arthur between them skewered on each of their cocks--- god.

Arthur was waiting for Eames’ reaction, and Eames, being the masterful actor—kept a cool façade. But his dead give away was when he loosened his tie, and Projection Eames cracked a smile grin of approval.

Eames cleared his throat. “I’d like that if Arthur is willing.”

“Well considering I’ve been the one that’s been fantasizing about it, for five months, I’d say I’m pretty eager.”

Eames smirked, waiting for a beat before continuing. “But I want to watch.”

Arthur shifted back, recoiling in his shell, his cold distant demeanour moulding back in place.

Projection Eames stepped forward. “Hey now, none of that, love.” His arms already prepared to wrap around Arthur, fingers itching to comb out Arthur’s hair.

Arthur didn’t fuss, but he didn’t return Projection Eames’ embrace either.

“How is this happening?” Arthur mumbled. “Like, I know this is all taking place in my head and I know this can’t be real.”


End file.
